Emmy- and Perrier-nominated in years gone by, Will Durst is advertised at the Traverse as "America's premier political comic". At the first performance of this mostly enjoyable hour of political comedy, he tested whether his US frame of reference was shared by a British crowd. He may find that his world-view needs some translating, too. Local audiences will gladly defer to Durst's strong material on Washington politics, but when his comedy crosses international borders, he is as guilty of little-America boorishness as the politicians he seeks to satirise.

This is ostensibly a show about Durst's generation, the baby boomers, but the stand-up soon homes in on two in particular: Bill Clinton and George W Bush. The latter is predictably flayed. The Bush manifesto's pledge number three, says Durst, was: "Put education first." Attorney general John Ashcroft, who lost his senate seat to a dead man, is lampooned as "the guy who couldn't win on an 'I'm alive' ticket".

Durst has a keen eye for the absurdities of American political life, which he describes with entertaining dismay. But if he convinces us that US politicos are a rogues' gallery, his distaste isn't animated by anything other than a generalised cynicism. He boasts of being anti-political correctness, which is always a danger sign: he gets Afghanistan offensively wrong, saying of the west's bombing campaign that: "All we did was rearrange rocks."

It is gratifying to see a stand-up persist with political comedy, and Durst has the wit and easy stage manner to do it well. But these few jokes betray a humanity deficit that undermines his moral authority.